


Game On

by WontyIsLife



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Kissing, Hand Jobs, M/M, OT4, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WontyIsLife/pseuds/WontyIsLife
Summary: Monty, Winston, Scott and Justin get a little drunk and decide to play spin the bottle
Relationships: Justin Foley/Scott Reed, Justin Foley/Winston Williams, Montgomery de la Cruz/Justin Foley, Montgomery de la Cruz/Scott Reed, Montgomery de la Cruz/Winston Williams, Scott Reed/Winston Williams
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Game On

They should probably know better than to be doing this. After all, they're all in their twenties by now, just barely, anyway. They should know how to handle their drinks, they should be better than the swaying, blushing wrecks they all currently seem to be.

Honestly, they hadn’t planned to drink more than one bottle, maybe a few swigs apiece and that would’ve done it. But, somehow, Justin’s managed to turn a second bottle into the third for the night, ripping the foil open and wrapping his fingers around the neck as he holds it out towards Scott.

The dorm room’s feeling comfortably warm and relaxed as Monty lays back, one of his hands absentmindedly twirling the first bottle on the ground. When he looks up, he catches sight of Scott swallowing down some of the fresh wine before passing it back over to Justin with a look that makes him feel a little like he’s intruding.

It seems to happen more and more these days, these looks and this feeling deep in his gut like he shouldn’t be here, like he’s a third wheel even with Winston around. But the dark look in Scott’s eyes as he stares at his boyfriend is sending a crimson blush and warmth to Monty’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the alcohol. The feeling only heightens when Justin wriggles closer to lean against Scott’s side.

“God, get a room, would ya?” Monty jokes, looking over his shoulder for Winston, just out of his line of sight.

Scott scoffs, says, “Got one,” and throws an arm around Justin. “Thanks for the concern though, brother.”

Monty rolls his eyes but says no more, still toying with the old bottle. But it’s okay, it’s fine, because he’s finally got eyes on his sweetheart, looking nothing short of gorgeous out of the corner of his eye. Winston’s a vision with his hair falling in dark waves and his tight fitted shirt with Monty’s flannel wrapped around his waist giving him just the right amount of something to look at. The sight of him renders the wine in his system completely unnecessary, the urge to kiss him pulsing through his system anyway.

Then there’s Scott, looking his regular handsome self with that jean jacket he always seems to be wearing nowadays, tied together this time with a plain loose gray shirt and blue jeans. It’s almost annoying to admit, but his friend looks good. Sure, Monty had all the admirers in high school, but dang, he thinks as he gives the bottle another whirl, the years sure have worked their magic on that scrawny, little kid Scott used to be.

After all, they’d gotten him Justin, a feat in and of itself. Monty had no complaints about him, not really. He was nice enough, even funny sometimes, and always did right by Scott. He wasn’t Monty’s type, but he didn’t have to be. As dark as Scott is fair, with Justin’s raven hair and fiery eyes, he’s the perfect complement to Scott’s golden complexion.

Speaking of, Justin managed to lose his jeans some time ago, forgotten to the floor somewhere after he complained it was too hot. His tanned legs now on display as he sits only in his maroon colored boxer briefs. Despite their earlier antics, he still looks great. In fact, they’re all looking inexplicably good tonight, all dressed up for some reason with nowhere to go.

“Pass that over here, man.” Monty’s thoughts are interrupted by Scott’s voice, his arm reaching out for the empty bottle. But Monty’s already a step or two ahead, knows the game Scott wants to play here. So he spins hard, the gears in his mind turning fast, attempting to calculate what it’d take to land on his boyfriend. His eyes roaming the small circle, it thankfully comes to a halt on Winston.

Winston’s already onto it, eagerly leaning towards him with his hands on the carpet, his lips pursed and waiting. Winston’s only halfway there before Monty tugs him in the rest of the way and melds their lips together. It’s familiar, it’s good, but for the sake of their small audience, he lingers a little longer than usual. His finger curls lightly under Winston’s chin as he starts to pull away, chasing him with a final kiss to his lips.

Settling back into place, Monty catches Scott’s gaze across the circle. There’s something burning and hidden behind his pupils, or so he thinks, but it’s gone before he can read into it any further. Which is fine, he’s got the wine to blame for whatever that was.

The bottle’s already spinning when he comes back to himself, Scott and Justin laughing together as if they somehow know what’s about to happen. And happen it does, the neck slowing to land straight on Justin, who kneels up to receive his prize.

Monty isn’t sure how he feels when Scott’s lips meet Justin’s. He’s seen them kiss before - it comes with the territory of being the best friend. But he’s never seen them be so brazen about it.

Scott’s the introvert, the tame one out of the two of them. So it’s more than a little startling to watch him be so rough with Justin, to hear his quiet intake of breath, to see his hand winding into Justin’s hair to pull it back sharply. Justin lets out a gasp, either out of a need to breathe or from the shock of Scott’s dominance, Monty isn’t sure. But he’s suddenly all too aware of his own racing heartbeat and the tightness of his collar.

Tearing his eyes away, Monty takes his mind off it by spinning again. In an instant, his attention is back on Winston, his lovely Winston, and he angles the bottle just so, aiming for him once more. Then he lets it go with a flick of his wrist, watching it turn erratically before it finally slows to a halt… on Justin.

There’s panic before anything else, that’s Scott’s boyfriend, he can’t do this, he won’t. But he also isn’t one to pussy out. He’s Monty de la Cruz, dang it, with a reputation to uphold. He can do this. So he chances a look up at Justin and swallows hard, Justin’s wide eyes surely mirroring the uncertainty in his own.

Then his focus briefly flicks to Scott. If his friend has objections, he's determined to not let them show. In fact, Monty can’t read his expression at all, a rarity for their lifelong friendship. Scott’s fully committed to his poker face, eyes trained on Monty’s, waiting calmly for the outcome. And Winston’s notably fallen quiet beside him, an almost identical expression on his face when he looks to him for help.

That’s permission if nothing else, their lack of response, so Monty slowly gets to his knees and shuffles across the circle towards Justin. Justin giggles when Monty almost stumbles over, and asks him, “You nervous, Montgomery?”

“It’s the wine,” he counters, his eyes narrowing. But the banter helps him cut through the awkwardness, so when he finally reaches Justin, it’s easier for him to lean forward and push his hair out of the way. Justin bursts out in a giggle, unable to resist the soft smile Monty sends his way at the touch of his fingers across his cheek.

“Should I take him for a spin, Scott?" he asks. But he doesn’t have time to wait for an answer because the smiles are already wearing off, and now he and Justin are just looking at each other, the air between them charged with something akin to trepidation and excitement. So before they can put it off any longer, Monty takes the plunge and brings their lips together.

It’s gentle and exploratory at first, nothing more than a prolonged tipsy peck. For a moment, it feels like that’s all it’ll ever be, but then Monty gets a feel for the softness of Justin’s lips, for the thrill of his hands roaming down his sides. So he shuffles forward on his knees, deepening the kiss to get a better taste of it. Soon Monty’s tongue is meeting Justin’s in the warmth of it all, and he's lost.

In the background, Winston’s letting out a wolf-whistle at them, breaking out in laughter once he’s done. But it isn’t Winston Monty’s most worried about, so Monty finds Scott over Justin’s shoulder, trying desperately to keep from analysing what he sees there. Instead, he keeps his attention on Justin, on Scott’s boy, on sticking to the rules and playing the game properly. He gets a hand on his tiny waist and dips him a little for theatrics, realising he must’ve moved in closer at some stage as well.

Then as abruptly as it began, it’s over. Monty’s lips are still slick with Justin’s saliva when he releases him, his hands refusing to draw away from his waist. Justin’s practically draped all over him when Monty leans in one last time to nip gently at his lip, his eyes blown with adrenaline and maybe some lust as well when he turns to Scott.

To be fair, Scott never saw himself as the confrontational type. Where most of his friends would opt to fight, he would usually take flight. It’s just who he is, who he’s always been.  
But tonight, something feels different. It might be the burn of alcohol coursing through his veins, or the way Monty’s eyes are glinting at him in the low light, arms still around Justin as if to whisk him away for himself.

He glares darkly in Monty’s direction but says nothing, because he knows what Monty’s doing. A challenge is being extended, no doubt, and he’s being baited to take it. This time, he's not about to turn it down, and judging by the look on Justin’s face, with that spark of mischief behind his eyes that he’d fall for time and time again, he’s up for it, too.

Game on.

Scott ignores the bottle this time, cutting Winston off mid-holler when he takes him by the wrist and pulls him in gruffly to mesh their lips together. Winston’s surprised if his gasp is anything to go by, but he quickly melts against Scott, dainty hands taking each side of his face to hold him there.

Eyes closed, it’s funny how he can tell the difference. The smallest nuances he didn’t realise were purely Justin are jumping out at him now: the way he nibbles at his bottom lip, his hands grabbing at his waist and pulling his body against his own, the way he smiles against him to finish them off.

Winston’s something else entirely. He’s got his hands roaming into Scott’s hair, fingers raking through it and down the nape of his neck, sending a shiver running down his spine. But his tongue, god, it’s doing the heavy-lifting here, somehow finding his in the middle of this mayhem. Then he’s licking into him in a way that feels oddly hot, unbelievably so, and not at all what he expected from someone like him.

Eventually, they pull apart, and it’s when Scott sees the blush on Winston’s cheeks, eyes half-lidded and staring straight at him, that he realises the innocent, good boy image he’s fostered for him has all but shattered. Gone is the pretty brunette in the preppy clothing, with his sprinkle of charm, under the enormity of the moment the two of them just shared.  
Then he remembers the others and the question Monty asked what feels like a lifetime ago.

“Sure, go ahead,” Scott manages to say with some confidence, pulling Winston flush against him like he’s the one he’ll be taking to bed tonight. “I’ve already got a ride.”

There’s a moment of the two men staring each other down, of feeling the other one out. Then, “You sure know how to throw down, Reed,” and Monty winks at him, a smirk to his lips. “But so do I.”

Had he chosen that moment to blink, Scott would’ve easily missed Monty taking Justin by his thighs, strong hands hooked beneath before lifting him easily onto the couch. Monty dives in after him, covering Justin’s body with his; hips nestled between his legs. Justin’s delighted laughter turns to whimpering when Monty’s mouth finds the sensitive spots under his jaw, lips latching on, tongue no doubt swirling against Justin’s racing pulse.

Scott grits his teeth, a flare of alpha male overtaking him briefly. He’d told Monty about Justin’s quirks one drunken night a few months ago, shared details about the places Justin loved being touched the most, and now it appears Monty’s taking advantage.

Well, two can play at that game.

Turning to Winston, he can already see the cogs turning. “How ‘bout it, sweet thing? Shall we?”

“Absolutely,” and Winston’s off and away, practically drags Scott over to the couch before propping him up against it, right next to the other pair before straddling his hips. Winston’s body settles like a blanket over him, so only Scott’s privy to Winston grinding against him, and he’s about to voice his protest when he hears the couch creak behind him.

He turns to find Monty definitely doing the same to Justin, Monty and Winston were clearly made for each other, as Justin’s hands start roaming under his best friend’s shirt and up his torso. It should make him mad, he should just want to tear Monty off of him and throw him across the room, but it’s just so difficult to care when Winston’s doing his own thing down here, mouth insistent on the corner of his, Winston’s hands on his shoulders to keep herself upright. Then Winston’s pretty eyes open to spot the scene playing out behind him.

“Hey!” Winston’s perks up, hips stilling against Scott’s, and he almost lets out a groan in disappointment. “That ain’t - jeez, just take the shirt off already!” Reaching up, he pulls his boyfriend’s top from him and clambers off of Scott altogether to swing his prize triumphantly in the air.

“That’s mine!” Monty suddenly yells, laughing as he scrambles away from Justin on the couch. But he trips before he can get any further, his foot catching on Scott’s arm and sending him tumbling down, narrowly missing a hard knee in the gut. He lands in a heap on top of Scott, practically taking Winston’s place from only seconds earlier.

Scott freezes, unsure of what to do. Maybe it’s liquid courage, maybe it’s the fact that it feels like anything could happen tonight, but all it takes is one moment of staring into Monty’s wide eyes before they’re crashing together the next, lips locked and tongues searching for the other. It should shock him, whatever Scott’s doing here with the boy he grew up with, but it feels good, it feels like he should keep doing it. So he does, hearing no complaints from either of their boyfriends nor from the man he’s got his hands on.

Feeling braver, Monty rakes his teeth gently over Scott’s bottom lip before delving in deeper, emboldened by the squeeze of Scott’s arms around his waist. Somehow Scott’s gained control in the midst of all this madness, and he topples Monty over, pressing him into the carpet with his torso. Monty’s all over him, he’s all over Monty, god, it feels so good, better than he could have ever imagined.

Through the haze of chemicals flooding his body and Monty’s tongue lapping at his collarbone, Scott vaguely catches sight of their boyfriends. They’re sitting next to each other now, Justin’s arm wound around Winston’s waist, eyes directed straight at him and Monty. Something sinister twists in his gut, head filling with ideas for later.

Feeling the pause in proceedings, Monty detaches himself and his head drops to the floor with a thud. The sound of his heavy breathing gets Scott's attention again.

“You know,” Scott says, mind scrambling to process the last few seconds. “That’s the third kiss that’s happened without spinning.”

“Is it?” Without missing a beat, Monty kicks his foot out, sending the bottle rolling off into the corner. “Screw the bottle then.”

“That’s a different game altogether,” Scott shoots back, smirking as he leans in closer, watching the fluster play out in the shadow on Monty’s face.

He’s about to tug his best friend in for another heated kiss, throwing caution to the wind, before his attention is stolen by small sounds coming from across the room. Together they turn towards the noise, and Monty promptly malfunctions beneath him.

Justin’s still got an arm around Winston, but his mouth’s now firmly planted on Winston’s, tongues visibly slipping between each other’s lips. Scott watches with growing interest as his boyfriend sits up on his heels and presses closer for more, letting Winston’s hands fall to his hips.

Then without a shred of hesitation, Justin slips his hand into Winston’s pants, grabbing onto his cock. His lips are still on Winston when he starts stroking his dick.

Monty and Scott are a panting mess of tangled limbs on the floor as they watch their boyfriends from across the room. 

With each stroke of Justin’s wrist, Winston becomes closer and closer to the finish line. His eyes held tightly shut, with his lips forming a pretty little O shape, he continually mumbles incoherent whimpers.

Until, finally, with one last stroke, Winn’s back arches and he moans, “Mon- Justin,” unsure of who’s name to call out. He comes in his pants, causing all three of the other boys in the room, dicks to painfully twitch.

Justin wraps it up finally with one last prolonged kiss to Winston’s lips, moaning as he pulls away before facing Scott and Monty with a triumphant grin.

“I think we win, boys.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! :)


End file.
